


A Study in Sherlockian Drabbles

by Holmesian



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A fight almost breaks out at a crime scene, Aiden Holmes - Freeform, Baby!Willow Holmes, Childbirth, Deaf!Faith, F/M, Liam Holmes - Freeform, Mentions of Sex, Pregnancy, Willow Holmes - Freeform, baby!Liam Holmes, mute!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4067317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holmesian/pseuds/Holmesian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just some drabbles that I thought up when I was bored and managed to write them down. :3 Will be in chapter format, with tags and ratings changing as needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock finds that he fell for Faith and their baby - TWW Drabble

**Author's Note:**

> Yay, my first drabble series! :3 Doing these as a way to keep my mind from going crazy. Hope you enjoy these! As always, BBC Sherlock is not owned by me. Faith Holmes (nee Watson) and Willow Holmes are my OC characters. Anyways, Enjoy!
> 
> I will also put a title and the drabble that it belongs to in the title as well. The number, indicated by () will show what number it is in the series that I have written so far.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith gives birth to her baby and Sherlock still has a couple surprises in store of John.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based of The Winter Willow, written by the amazing SuperWhoLockian75. Seriously, go read it. It's way better than what I could've done.

Faith let out a whimper, her body in agony. Mrs. Hudson patted her hand, telling her what a good job she was doing. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “JOHN! I can’t, DO THIS anymore!” John was at her side as quick as he could.

“Faith, yes you can. Come on, one more. That’s all I’m asking.” John checked her vitals and glanced over at Sherlock, who was giving him a blank look, but was actually simmering with emotions. Faith suppressed another whimper and held John’s gaze, her brown eyes almost clouded over.

“One more? That’s all it’ll take?”

“Yes, yes, that’s all. After one more, you can rest and you can hold your baby in your arms.” Faith turned her head away from John and whimpered. She did as John asked, and gave one more push. Sherlock had to be quick to catch the slippery infant as she slipped from her mother. Once the infant was in his hands, he gazed at her, gently cupping her head with his rough hand.

“Oh. You are just…Hello love.” Sherlock cradled his daughter next to his chest, not even caring that amniotic fluid and blood was soaking his purple shirt. The baby was whimpering, shivering slightly from the cold.

“Sherlock? Can I have her please?” John was at his side, all but glaring at the detective. Sherlock wasn’t listening, as he was mesmerized by the tiny baby in his arms. Finally, when John tried to take the baby from him, Sherlock snapped to the present.

“No, you cannot take my daughter John.”

“Sherlock, it’s only for tests. I’ve got to do tests on her...so I can see if she’s healthy or not!” The baby started to cry, upset at the shouting that was going on.

“Sherlock, love, give John the baby. He has to do the APGAR test on her right after birth and five minutes after.” Faith was sitting up, properly now, and she was taking in ragged breaths. The afterbirth had come quite quickly after the baby; while Sherlock was holding the infant, to be precise, letting John move freely around with the baby. Once John weighed her, he turned and glared at Faith.

“What is it?”

“Faith, are you sure you were full term?”

“Yeah, why?”

“My niece is only 1.875 kilos, just under 2 kilos. I don’t deliver babies, but even I know that’s underweight for a full term newborn, more of a premature baby weight.”

“I don’t know why she’s so little. I was eating everything I was supposed to. Maybe its genetics. Her father doesn’t eat much. Look at him! He’s scrawnier than a rat during the winter.” Faith sighed and closed her eyes. “John, I’m very tired, I hurt AND I’ve gone through almost 14 hours of labor. Can’t I have a break now?”

“Sure Faith. You rest now. We’ll talk more when everyone’s had a bit of a kip, yeah?”

“Yeah.” John brought the baby back to Sherlock once he was done.

“Sherlock?”

“Hm?”

“Would you like to cut the cord? All possible blood that could go to the baby is in the baby.”

“Yes. I would like to do that.”

“Alright. Here’s the scissors. The cord is already clamped off at the two places, so you don’t need to worry about that.” John handed Sherlock the scissors and Sherlock cut in between the clamps. The baby squirmed and whimpered, getting cold. After Sherlock handed John the scissors, he tried to calm down the baby.

“Hey, no need to fuss. Your daddy got you yeah? So what’s all this fussing?” His deep baritone rumbled in his chest as he pressed the newborn closer to his chest.

“Sherlock love?”

“Yes Faith?”

“Baby’s not getting any warmer with that shirt being covered with the fluids. Plus, she needs a nappy, otherwise…” Faith didn’t have to say anymore, with Sherlock dashing out of the room and bellowing for Mrs. Hudson to see if she had a newborn-sized nappy in her flat. Luckily she did, and soon the baby was clad in a nappy. Sherlock couldn’t get enough of his new daughter, and even tried to observe Faith nurse her for the first time, but the door was shut in his face before he could come back in after being shoved out.

“But my shirt…I need to change it. How can I change my shirt if I can’t get to my dresser?” He pouted and resolved to wait in his chair. John came up to him, a cuppa in his hand.

“So, what’s going on in your head?”

“I want to marry Faith, John. Do I have your blessing?” John just stared at him, and Sherlock huffed. “Oh course, not to many stimulus at once. You already hit your maximum of one.” Sherlock turned away from him and started to sulk.

“I’m sorry, but you want to marry Faith? Since when?”

“And I thought you said you would be fine with me having a relationship with your sister earlier today.”

“I did…but I thought you were gonna do….”

“DO what? I can’t start date her now, not while she has a newborn to take care of. Besides, I think we’re already past that part, don’t you think? Besides, she’ll need a second person to help out with the night feedings. John, she’s tired now, and that’s after 13 hours and 45 minutes of labor. Think about how tired she’ll be if she has to do the night feedings by herself. She’ll need someone to help, and I doubt her flatmate (which is Molly Hooper by the way) will help, if she goes back. Molly also has a demanding schedule, one where she needs to be at a certain place at certain time, so she’ll have no help from her. It’s a logical decision.”

“Yes, logical, because that’s what people do. Manipulate them and then leave them hanging. Where does love come into it? Faith and the baby are gonna need that as well. Do you really love her?”

“Yes. I do. It was stupid of me to tell her to abort the child. Now that I’ve held her, I want to be in her life.”

“Yes, you were. Glad you can admit that.” John turned to go, but turned back. “And yes, you have my blessing. My sister seems love you, and I think I can put up with you as my brother-in-law.”

“Of course you can. I wouldn’t have impregnated your sister if I didn’t think you couldn’t handle it.” Sherlock smirked and went back to his room, ignoring John’s look of shock on his face, and was pleased to find that his door was open. When he peeked in, Faith was sleeping on her side with the baby tucked close to her body. The sleeping baby was covered with a turquoise polka dot blanket, covering her otherwise exposed skin. Sherlock smiled, pulled the covers over Faith and placed a kiss on her temple. He gently picked up his daughter, reworking the blanket so she was swaddled in it and kissed her tiny face and touching her semi spiky black hair. The baby whimpered, but he hummed and rocked her ever so gently that she settled in again and went back to sleep. Sherlock put her back next to Faith, and after grabbing a fresh shirt, quietly closed the door to his room so they could sleep peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.875 Kilos is 4 lbs 2 oz in America.


	2. How Faith tries to get away from her stalker -AMTAE Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith tries to get away from her stalker, but only ends up dunking herself in the freezing river.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AMTAE is 'A Means To An End', the sequel to TWW. It's not up quite yet, seeing as it's a work in progress.

Faith shivered and pulled her coat tighter around her. It was very early in the morning when she had dropped off her baby girl to her father’s, making sure Willow was bundled up in case some snow decided to dump on her. She didn’t want her little Willow to get cold and die now. Hearing footsteps behind her, Faith sneaked a glance over her shoulder. Her heart quickened. There was Conner Wilcox, stalking her like always. Good thing he was following her, and not her baby. She picked up the pace, trying to go faster. She was successful, but wasn’t watching where she was going.

Her feet led her to the bridge, the only one that she knew off that she frequented as a child. After crossing the road, she went right over the side and into the icy water. She came up, sputtering, and of course, shivering. She swam sideways until she was out of the current. Huddling under the bridge, she waited there until she was certain that Conner was gone. Once he was gone, she slowly got back into the water and swam downstream until she was able to climb onto a bank and gasp for breath. Now that she was thoroughly soaked through and in the frigid air, she shivered quite violently and made her way to the homeless camp, where she hoped they had a fire going. Her teeth started to chatter, and she moved more quickly. Finally, she made it to the homeless camp, and curled around a fire. They didn’t question her as she shivered, wet and cold from her dip in the river. Her breath rattled in her chest, but she didn’t pay attention. All that matter was that she was away from Conner, and that no one, other than Sherlock Holmes himself, would be able to find her.

Over the next couple of weeks, her health had declined so badly, that one of the homeless sent a note to 221b Baker St, asking for Doctor Watson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that there was no dialogue in here. I just wanted to write something more antsy and such, and I didn't see anything that would make it better, dialogue wise. (Besides, if Faith is running from a stalker, she wouldn't stop to talk to him. :P)


	3. How Sherlock deals with a baby at his wedding - RP Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock can't find a bottle of milk for Willow, and he's panicking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was based off a RP that me and SuperWhoLockian75 are doing. When we RPed this, it was a couple years ago, almost 3 years. Looking back, I can see that both of us have improved. :3
> 
> This one is a bit longer, only because it's more like a short story than a drabble. But I still consider it to be a drabble.

Willow snuffled against her father’s suit jacket. It was the day of Sherlock and Faith’s marriage, and she was getting tired. Yawning, she shifted so that her nose was pressed into the jacket, taking in his scent. Sherlock adjusted his hold on to his baby, never letting her fall. He still marveled at this tiny human, who demanded so much attention from him and John. Faith was still recovering from her bout in the cold river, but she had recovered enough so that she could get married to him.

Willow’s stomach rumbled. Whimpering, she started to search for her meal. Sherlock gently bounced her, trying to keep her quiet, as it was the brother-sister dance, and Faith, well, was dancing with John.

“Shhhh, love. Mummy will be back with your meal in a bit. Just be patient, OK?” Willow calmed down a bit, but her face screwed up regardless.

Sherlock was in a panic. Faith was still dancing with John, and he wasn’t sure if they packed some expressed milk in the diaper bag. That’s right, he admitted to himself that the Consulting Detective didn’t know whether or not there was expressed milk in the bag. Sherlock kissed his daughter’s unruly dark hair, something that she got from him, and moved towards the long table where the wedding party sat at. He glanced at the wall, finally pinpointing the bag’s location. Bending down, Sherlock found it a little difficult to juggle a baby and opening the diaper bag at the same time, he looked around the room to see if there was anyone who would be able to hold Wil. He ruled out Molly, since she was talking to another woman, (medical field, but more of Faith’s area than hers), and then saw Lestrade. He wasn’t doing anything, just looking at his hands and shuffling feet. He also considered Mycroft, but his brother was more concerned about what he was texting than his 3 weeks old niece. Lestrade it was. There was no other person that he trusted (other than John) with his life, or his daughter. Holding Wil close to him, he got up and approached Lestrade.

“Lestrade?”

‘Yes, Sherlock?” Lestrade looked up and glanced at the baby in Sherlock’s arms.

“Can you hold Willow while I look for something? It’s a little difficult.” As to prove his point, Willow whimpered and moved in the bundle of blankets she was swaddled in. Lestrade chuckled and held out his arms for her.

“Of course. Anything for little Wil.” Sherlock sighed with relief and handed her over. Once in Lestrade’s arms, she snuggled in and cooed. Sherlock went back to the diaper bag to see if he could find a bottle of milk for Willow. 10 minutes later, he growled in frustration as he almost turned the bag upside down and shook it. He couldn’t find one anywhere! He was sure he packed a bottle of milk. Glancing over, he saw Lestrade bounce his little girl and try to calm her down. Ruffling his hair, he groaned and got up. He’ll just have to wait until Faith was finished dancing with John. He went back to Lestrade to get his daughter back.

“Lestrade?”

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“Can I have my daughter back? It seems like she’s getting to be a handful for you.” Lestrade started to reply that she wasn’t a handful, but when Willow squirmed, he gave up.

“Here, you can have her back. Getting to be a little too squirmy for me.” Lestrade knew he was gruff, and he regretted it as Willow started to cry. “I didn’t mean to make her cry.” He mumbled as he got up to go get another drink. Sherlock stopped him.

“Don’t. I don’t fancy bringing home a drunk inspector.” Sherlock could see the pain in the D.I.’s eyes as he was here at the reception. Lestrade just nodded and went back to his seat. Sherlock tried to keep his daughter from crying, but a few whimpers still escaped from her.

It seemed like forever, but Faith came back and took Willow from Sherlock, noticing that she needed to be fed. While she had the baby with her, she went and asked one of the bridesmaids to help her with her dress. Sherlock followed his wife with his eyes, making sure that she was going to be safe and OK. When she was finally gone, he got up and made his way over to Lestrade again.

“Lestrade?” Greg looked up at him, a half smile on his face.

“Yes Sherlock? This isn’t asking me for cases is it?” Sherlock shook his head, a smile ghosting on his face.

“No it isn’t. I just thought that you would like to be one of Willow’s uncles. Seeing that you handled her so well when I went to go look for a bottle.” Lestrade just gaped at Sherlock, not believing his ears. Finally he was able to speak.

“Of course I will.” Sherlock grimaced a bit when Lestrade hugged him, still not used to physical affection. But other than that, it wasn’t too bad, and the rest of the day went without a hitch, even with the surprise showing of the Queen of England.


	4. How Sherlock comforts his pregnant wife - AU!lock Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mute!Sherlock comforts his pregnant wife, Deaf!Faith. What could've happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something that one of my friends and I thought up. And I just added on a little bit and wrote this drabble. AU where Sherlock is mute, and Faith is deaf.

Faith closed the door to Sherlock’s and her flat. Standing right there, she ran her hands over her 5 month pregnant belly, as if she was reassuring herself of the reality. Sherlock came out of their bedroom when he heard the door click. He was just catching up on some light reading when she came in. Faith just went into the living room, pulled off a blanket from the rack, and cocooned herself with in on the couch. She was silent through all of this, not even sending a flurry of hand motions Sherlock’s way. Sherlock followed her the couch and sat on one end. Even though he couldn’t talk, he could see the distress on his wife’s face and all over her body. He tapped her hip, and she glanced at him.

 _“Why are you so distressed? This isn’t usual for you.”_ Faith sighed as she pulled out her hands to respond.

 _“I ‘overheard’ some women talking. That’s all.”_ Sherlock moved closer and placed a kiss on her forehead.

_“What did the interpreter interpret for you?”_

_“Are you sure you want to hear?”_

_“Yes. Your emotional well being is important to me.”_ Faith nibbled on her lip, hesitant to tell him, but she knew that he had a right to know.

 _“They said that deaf people shouldn’t have kids. That they would let them starve and all, because they can’t hear them.”_ Sherlock sighed and gathered Faith into his arms. Placing a hand on her belly, he waited for a few seconds and was rewarded with a small kick. He whirled her around so she could see him.

_“Don’t listen to them. You’ll make an amazing mother. You already are. You nurture our baby more than you could possibly know.”_

_“Thanks Sherlock. But, I’m scared. What if the baby cries in the night and I don’t know, because I’m deaf?”_

_“Faith, you forgot that I have ears that work. I’ll be able to get up in the night and get the baby so you can rest before you need to do anything, like feed him or her, or soothe him. Actually, I could do that. Well, except feeding. That’s where you come in. What I’m trying to say is, don’t worry. I’ll wake up, get the baby, and bring him or her back to you. Then I’ll wake you up, and we can go from there, OK?”_ Sherlock placed a couple kisses on his wife’s head, and she smiled, resting her head on his chest. She placed her hand on his chest, pressing it into his chest, making sure he knew what she was saying.

 _“I love you.”_ Sherlock chuckled in his throat and placed another kiss on her head. He responded, holding her even closer.

_“I love you too, and the baby as well.”_


	5. John finds out how protective Sherlock is - AMTAE Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When John disturbs a sleeping Willow, he finds out just how protective Sherlock Holmes can get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful SuperWhoLockian75. :3 The original was...interesting to say the least.

The flat was quiet when John walked in after a long day at the clinic. Not seeing Sherlock in his usual place in his chair or hearing his niece, Willow, he grew a little concerned.

“Sherlock?” He searched the rooms of the flat, then headed towards Sherlock’s room when he heard a sneeze come from there. John opened the bedroom door and almost couldn't believe his eyes at what he saw. There was Willow, curled up on Sherlock’s chest, while Sherlock had his eyes closed and his hands in the classic ‘thinking position’ underneath his chin. Willow was slightly covered with Sherlock’s dress shirt, but had a blanket over her as well. Her tiny fists were up by her head and she didn’t respond when John came in. Sherlock opened one eye and almost glared at John. John narrowed his eyes back in a questioning look about her and went to pick up Wil, but as soon as he did, she started to cry. John put her to his shoulder trying to calm her down.

“Wil, what’s the matter? Are you cold?” John grabbed the blanket from on top of Sherlock and swaddled her in it, but she kept crying.

“John, you disturbed her. She was sleeping. Quite comfortably I might add.” John raised an eyebrow at Sherlock and continued trying to calm down his niece.

“Sherlock, what about a bottle? She might’ve needed one while you were running around in your Mind Palace or whatever it was you were doing.” John asked casually and at that remark Sherlock got off the bed, his eyes flashing dangerously.

“John Watson, are you implying that I don’t know how to take care of my daughter?” His voice was a dangerous rumble, and John paled.

“No of course not don't be daft!" He quickly replied then thought for a moment. "To be honest though you do have a bad habit of not looking after yourself Sherlock, so yes I was a bit concerned about Willow." Sherlock scowled and John quailed under his look.

“John, I’m the one who gives Willow her bottle. I also change her nappy, with the few rare exceptions when you do. Lately I’ve been dressing her, giving her a bath, and trying to keep her occupied.” John put up one hand to stop him.

“OK, OK, you’re right. Ever since Faith disappeared you have been a dutiful father to Wil. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.” Sherlock took back his daughter, and as soon as she was back with him, she stopped crying. John turned to leave once Sherlock and Willow seemed to be at peace again, but before he could he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“John, I do appreciate the concern. It shows that you care for and love Wil, and that's what you do best; love others. Besides being an army doctor and saving people’s lives of course. But Willow will need to know that you love her, because that’s important for their development.” To say that John was surprised by what Sherlock had just said to him would've been an understatement.

“Are you sure you're feeling alright Sherlock?" John asked shaking his head. "Really though, thank you Sherlock, for that. I appreciate it.” John said with a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, still a bit stunned.

“You're welcome John.” Sherlock said and patted John on the shoulder a bit awkwardly. Going back to the bed he laid back down and put Willow back on his chest. Wil stretched her tiny limbs, finding a comfortable position before dozing off into sleep again. John took that as an invitation to leave so he did and closed the door behind him, but one last glance showed Sherlock murmuring to Wil while his hand was rubbing her back soothingly. John shook his head and went to the kitchen to make a cuppa. Never in his life would he have thought that Sherlock Holmes, out of all people, would be affectionate and protective over a baby.


	6. Baby's First Crime Scene -ATAE Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Willow Holmes is 'introduced' to a crime scene, and Greg Lestrade ends up babysitting while Sherlock goes to take a look. Donovan decides to pick a fight with Sherlock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait. I was waiting for my beta, (which is SuperWhoLockian75 by the way) to get back to me with the beta'd version. :)

When Sherlock Holmes came to the crime scene with a baby attached to his front and John Watson trailing behind as usual with a small nappy bag hanging off his shoulder, Greg couldn’t believe his eyes, nor could Donovan or Anderson.

“Sherlock, what are you doing bringing a baby to a crime scene?!” Donovan exclaimed and rushed to take the baby from Sherlock, but he just glared at her until she backed away.

“Don’t touch her, you’ll get her sick.” Sherlock stated even though Donovan didn't feel particularly under the weather.

“I’ll get her sick? What about you? I bet you’ve just picked her up from a mill or something and are using her for an experiment, right?” Donovan sneered. Everyone stopped what they were doing and Greg just pinched the bridge of his nose, sensing a fight coming. John hesitated but moved forward when Willow started to cry.

“Sherlock, let me take Wil.” John suggested carefully and Sherlock let him take the baby before turning back to Donovan. Her eyes went wide.

“The experiment has a name?” Donovan couldn’t believe her ears.

“She’s not an experiment; she’s my daughter if you must know.” Sherlock snarled in anger. There was a collective intake of breath among the police officers and CSIs within the vicinity then a bout of silence. All that could be heard was Willow whimpering in the background. Donovan clenched and unclenched her hands in shock.

“When did you get a daughter? I thought you didn’t do relationships with women or anyone in particular. And who’s the unlucky girl? Not brave enough to take care of your spawn it seems.” Donovan sneered. Sherlock growled and lunged at her and she gasped when she hit the edge of a building and was pinned with Sherlock looming over her.

“Her mother had her in my flat on New Year’s. I delivered her with her brother, John's, help. And for your information her name is Faith Watson and I am currently engaged to her. So don’t insult my fiancée when you speak of her or my daughter.” Sherlock fumed through clenched teeth. Donovan was shocked and so was the rest of Greg’s team. Anderson's jaw dropped and John just looked a little pained. Greg clapped a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder when he came back over leaving Donovan leaning against the building still in a state of shock. However that didn't stop her from giving an icy glare towards Sherlock.

“Congratulations mate! So when’s the wedding? Have you two decided on a date yet?” Sherlock just looked at him with a pained yet tired expression.

“I don’t know when she wants the wedding to be honest. She disappeared some time ago leaving Willow with me and John. Something happened that she had to go into hiding, but what that would be I have no clue." He stated and Lestrade simply nodded in understanding. "Now, where’s that body, Gavin?” Sherlock asked, quick to change the subject. Greg dropped his hand and pointed to the door.

“Through there, take the second left and it will be on your right. And it’s GREG!” He shouted after Sherlock as he swept into the door. John looked a little harried and put the baby into Lestrade's hands.

“Sorry Greg, but I need to dash if I’m gonna catch up to him. Mind watching her for a bit? She’s been fed and burped, but she might need a nappy change soon. Bag’s over there.” John gave him a tight smile and ran after Sherlock. Greg sighed and gently cradled the dark haired baby in his arms, then a smile began to creep it’s way over his face. Brushing some hair away from Willow's face, Greg could easily tell that this baby was Sherlock’s. She moved slightly and just curled up in his arms.

_Maybe Sherlock bringing her wasn’t a bad idea after all._


	7. Of Babes and Toddlers - RP Drabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faith's home after having her third child and Liam wants attention. How can Faith keep everyone happy? (Sucky summary is sucky. Sorry!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry everyone for not posting in a couple months. Everything has been hectic lately, and I just started College again as well. My major (Veterinary Technology) doesn't really allow for pleasure writing, but never fear! I have drabbles that I am writing, even though they are in the twenties now. -_-
> 
> However, I am planning on doing some more writing whenever I can find the time. I have one other drabble I can post, but after that you may have some radio silence from me. 
> 
> Now, I have a question. Should I post each individual drabble as it's own work and put them in a series? Would you guys like that? Leave a comment with your thoughts!
> 
> Beta'd by SuperWhoLockian75

It was Faith’s first day home from the hospital after giving birth to her third child, and second son, Aiden Holmes. To say that she was exhausted from the whole ordeal would've been an understatement. Sitting down gratefully on the couch in their living room she observed her other children, Willow and Liam, playing on the floor together happily. However Aiden started to wake up in the baby carrier he was tucked comfortably in and made the typical newborn face for wanting something to eat. Not immediately finding what he wanted, Aiden began to whimper. Liam looked up from his place on the floor then got up and ran to Faith.

“Mummy, up!” He begged, wanting to be held. Faith sighed and bent down to his level, running her hands through his curly hair.

“I’m sorry love, but Aiden needs to be fed and I can’t hold you while I do that.” She gave him a hug, picked him up, and rocked him as he started to cry. “I know love, I wish I had many more arms to use. That way I could hold you and nurse Aiden.” She had a bright idea and turned Liam’s chin towards her. “How about this; why don't you and Wil go get a picture book that you both like and bring it to me? I can read it to you guys while I tend to Aiden and you still get to sit with me, OK?” Liam nodded and quickly untangled himself from her arms and jumped down.

“OK mummy.” He went to the kid bookshelf that was given to them from Faith’s parents and pulled a couple books from the shelf. He went to his sister and tugged on her shirt. “Wil! Mummy can wead us a book! Which one?” Wil glanced at the books and took one from Liam.

“This one.” Liam nodded and ran to put the other book back. Faith just watched them as they interacted, noting the difference between the pair and Sherlock and Mycroft when they were boys.

_Maybe having two siblings is the difference between them._

Liam came back to Wil and almost tugged her up earning him a deadly look from his sister. Chuckling, Faith intervened and picked up Liam and set him on the couch to which Wil followed and climbed up too, not sure where to sit at first. Faith got Aiden and the nursing pillow from the bassinet and came back over to the couch then sat in the middle of the two kids and adjusted Aiden in her arms. After getting Aiden started on his feed, Faith opened the picture book and read to everybody while Liam and Wil pressed close to her. A few hours later when Sherlock came home he found Faith dozing on the couch with a picture book in her lap along with a sleeping Aiden hugged close to her chest and Liam and Willow at her sides. Going over to them, he gently picked up Liam and rubbed his back as he transferred him to his bed. After doing the same with Aiden and Wil he got a glass of water and nudged Faith when he sat down on the couch next to her.

“Good afternoon Faith.” He said softly to her in his deep voice. Faith opened her eyes and smiled.

“Good afternoon to you too. What’s with the glass of water?” She shifted closer and leaned against him. Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

“I would’ve thought it obvious. It’s for you Faith. You’re beginning to get slightly dehydrated from all the nursing you’re doing.” He replied simply. She righted herself and took the glass from him.

“Yeah, I think you’re right. My lips have been chapped almost all day and I just couldn’t find a break in the day to get something to drink.” She drank the water, finishing the entire glass. Putting the glass down she hugged Sherlock. “Thank you love, I needed that.” His chest vibrated when he chuckled, the baritone sounding pleasant to her ears after hearing children whining for the better part of the day.

“I’ll get you another one as soon as we finish up here.” Sherlock kissed her head and just held her close, enjoying the company of his wife. After a prolonged period of silence he looked at her to make sure she was OK, however he found her sleeping quite soundly with her head resting on his shoulder. He kissed her on her forehead and carefully placed her head on his lap. Pulling a blanket over his wife, Sherlock just sat there with his eyes closed and hands in his classic thinking position. But every once in a while he'd open his eyes to glance at Faith, making sure she stayed asleep. He didn’t want to tell her that she was pushing herself too hard and that she didn’t want to ask for help. Closing his eyes once again, he resolved to call her parents and ask them to help her out, but after he solved this new case that Lestrade was working on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to have comments on this drabble, and any other drabble as well! I greatly appreciate constructive criticism and other drabble ideas. (Just to get it out of the way now, I don't know how to write smutty Johnlock, just Platonic Johnlock.)


	8. Bedtime Stories - Potter!lock (AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cariad wants Sherlock to read her a story from 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. He grudgingly complies. Fluff ensues at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Titty_Now_Titty_Later. I'm ever so thankful. 
> 
> Yes, I know it was a while since I've updated, but I figured since I have the next one in beta-ing, I can post this one. :3 First drabble of the new year I guess. Your kudos, favs and subscribes are what keep me going! Please keep it up. :3

Cariad bounded into her father’s room, a battered copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard clutched in her hands. “Sherlock!” She jumped onto the bed, making the bed bounce and jostling him.

“What is it, Cariad?” He looked to at her from where he was lying flat on his back with his fingertips gently pressed to his chin. Cariad pushed the book towards him and snuggled up next to him.  
  
“Read me a story, please? Daddy said he was busy and that you’ll read to me instead.” Sherlock frowned as he heard her call John ‘daddy’. In all technicalities, he was Cari’s father and should subsequently be called ‘daddy’ or ‘dad’, but Cari refused over and over again, saying that John was her daddy and Sherlock was Sherlock, blood be damned. Granted, John is both her adoptive and god father, but that didn’t explain away Sherlock’s legal and blood ties to the six-year-old. Pushing himself up on to one elbow, he beckoned for the book.

“Alright. Which story did you want me to read?”

Cariad beamed as she handed him the book. “Babbitty Rabbitty!”

Sherlock chuckled at her enthusiasm and brought her close. “Babbitty Rabbitty it is.”

Cariad snuggled up to him, her hands fisted in his soft cotton t-shirt, her head next to his chest listening to his baritone rumble in his chest.

_“A long time ago, in a far-off land, there lived a foolish King who decided that he alone should have the power of magic. He therefore commanded the head of his army to form a Brigade of Witch-Hunters, and issued them a pack of ferocious black hounds. At the same time, the King caused proclamations to be read in every village and town across the land: “Wanted by the King: an Instructor in Magic.” No true witch or wizard dared volunteer for the post, for they were all in hiding from the Brigade of Witch Hunters._

_However, a cunning charlatan with no magical power saw a chance of enriching himself, and arrived at the palace, claiming to be a wizard of enormous skill. The charlatan performed a few simple tricks that convinced the foolish King of his magical powers, and was immediately appointed Grand Sorcerer in Chief, the King’s Private Magic Master._

_The charlatan bade the King give him a large sack of gold, so that he might purchase wands and other magical necessities. He also requested several large rubies, to be used in the casting of curative charms, and a silver chalice or two, for the storing and maturing of potions. All these things the King supplied._

_The charlatan stowed the treasures safely in his own house and returned to the palace grounds._

_He did not know that he was being watched by an old woman who lived in a hovel on the edge of the grounds. Her name was Babbitty, and she was the washerwoman who kept the palace linens soft, fragrant and white. Peeping from behind her drying sheets, Babbitty saw the charlatan snap two twigs from one of the King’s trees and disappear into the palace._

_The charlatan gave one of the twigs to the King and assured him that it was a wand of tremendous power._

_“It will only work, however,” said the charlatan, “when you are worthy of it.”_

_Every morning the charlatan and the foolish King walked out into the palace grounds, where they waved their wands and shouted nonsense at the sky. The charlatan was careful to perform more tricks, so that the King remained convinced of his Grand Sorcerer’s skill, and of the power of the wands that had cost so much gold._

_One morning, as the charlatan and the foolish King were twirling their twigs, and hopping in circles, and chanting meaningless rhymes, a loud cackling reached the King’s ears. Babbitty the washerwoman was watching the King and the charlatan from the window of her tiny cottage, and was laughing so hard she soon sank out of sight, too weak to stand._

_“I must look most undignified, to make the old washerwoman laugh so!” said the King. He ceased his hopping and twig twirling, and frowned. “I grow weary of practice! When shall I be ready to perform real spells in front of my subjects, Sorcerer?”_

_The charlatan tried to soothe his pupil, assuring him that he would soon be capable of astonishing feats of magic, but Babbitty’s cackling had stung the foolish King more than the charlatan knew._

_“Tomorrow,” said the King, “we shall invite our court to watch their King perform magic!”_

_The charlatan saw that the time had come to take his treasure and flee. “Alas, Your Majesty, it is impossible! I had forgotten to tell Your Majesty that I must set out on a long journey tomorrow –”_

_“If you leave this palace without my permission, Sorcerer, my Brigade of Witch-Hunters will hunt you down with their hounds! Tomorrow morning you will assist me to perform magic for the benefit of my lords and ladies, and if anybody laughs at me, I shall have you beheaded!”_

_The King stormed back to the palace, leaving the charlatan alone and afraid. Not all his cunning could save him now, for he could not run away, nor could he help the King with magic that neither of them knew._

_Seeking a vent for his fear and his anger, the charlatan approached the window of Babbitty the washerwoman. Peering inside, he saw the little old lady sitting at her table, polishing a wand. In a corner behind her, the King’s sheets were washing themselves in a wooden tub._

_The charlatan understood at once that Babbitty was a true witch, and that she who had given him his awful problem could also solve it. “Crone!” roared the charlatan. “Your cackling has cost me dear! If you fail to help me, I shall denounce you as a witch, and it will be you who is torn apart by the King’s hounds!”_

_Old Babbitty smiled at the charlatan and assured him that she would do everything in her power to help._  
_The charlatan instructed her to conceal herself inside a bush while the King gave his magical display, and to perform the King’s spells for him, without his knowledge. Babbitty agreed to the plan but asked one question._

_“What, sir, if the King attempts a spell Babbitty cannot perform?”_

_The charlatan scoffed._

_“Your magic is more than equal to that fool’s imagination,” he assured her, and he retired to the castle, well pleased with his own cleverness._

_The following morning all the lords and ladies of the kingdom assembled in the palace grounds. The King climbed on to a stage in front of them, with the charlatan by his side._

_“I shall firstly make this lady’s hat disappear!” cried the King, pointing his twig at a noblewoman._

_From inside a bush nearby, Babbitty pointed her wand at the hat and caused it to vanish. Great was the astonishment and admiration of the crowd, and loud their applause for the jubilant King._

_“Next, I shall make that horse fly!” cried the King, pointing his twig at his own steed._

_From inside the bush, Babbitty pointed her wand at the horse and it rose high into the air._

_The crowd was still more thrilled and amazed, and they roared their appreciation of their magical King._

_“And now,” said the King, looking all around for an idea; and the Captain of his Brigade of Witch-Hunters ran forwards._

_“Your Majesty,” said the Captain, “this very morning, Sabre died of eating a poisonous toadstool! Bring him back to life, Your Majesty, with your wand!”_

_And the Captain heaved on to the stage the lifeless body of the largest of the witch-hunting hounds._

_The foolish King brandished his twig and pointed it at the dead dog. But inside the bush, Babbitty smiled, and did not trouble to lift her wand, for no magic can raise the dead._

_When the dog did not stir, the crowd began first to whisper, and then to laugh. They suspected that the King’s first two feats had been mere tricks after all._

_“Why doesn’t it work?” the King screamed at the charlatan, who bethought himself of the only ruse left to him._

_“There, Your Majesty, there!” he shouted, pointing at the bush where Babbitty sat concealed. “I see her plain, a wicked witch who is blocking your magic with her own evil spells! Seize her, somebody, seize her!”_

_Babbitty fled from the bush, and the Brigade of Witch-Hunters set off in pursuit, unleashing their hounds, who bayed for Babbitty’s blood. But as she reached a low hedge, the little witch vanished from sight, and when the King, the charlatan and all the courtiers gained the other side, they found the pack of witch-hunting hounds barking and scrabbling around a bent and aged tree._

_“She has turned herself into a tree!” screamed the charlatan and, dreading lest Babbitty turn back into a woman and denounce him, he added, “Cut her down, Your Majesty, that is the way to treat evil witches!”_

_An axe was brought at once, and the old tree was felled to loud cheers from the courtiers and the charlatan._

_However, as they were making ready to return to the palace, the sound of loud cackling stopped them in their tracks._

_“Fools!” cried Babbitty’s voice from the stump they had left behind._

_“No witch or wizard can be killed by being cut in half! Take the axe, if you do not believe me, and cut the Grand Sorcerer in two!”_

_The Captain of the Brigade of Witch-Hunters was eager to make the experiment, but as he raised the axe the charlatan fell to his knees, screaming for mercy and confessing all his wickedness. As he was dragged away to the dungeons, the tree stump cackled more loudly than ever._

_“By cutting a witch in half, you have unleashed a dreadful curse upon your kingdom!” it told the petrified King. “Henceforth, every stroke of harm that you inflict upon my fellow witches and wizards will feel like an axe stroke in your own side, until you will wish you could die of it!”_

_At that, the King fell to his knees too, and told the stump that he would issue a proclamation at once, protecting all the witches and wizards of the kingdom, and allowing them to practise their magic in peace._

_“Very good,” said the stump, “but you have not yet made amends to Babbitty!”_

_“Anything, anything at all!” cried the foolish King, wringing his hands before the stump._

_“You will erect a statue of Babbitty upon me, in memory of your poor washerwoman, and to remind you for ever of your own foolishness!” said the stump._

_The King agreed to it at once, and promised to engage the foremost sculptor in the land, and have the statue made of pure gold. Then the shamed King and all the noblemen and women returned to the palace, leaving the tree stump cackling behind them._

_When the grounds were deserted once more, there wriggled from a hole between the roots of the tree stump a stout and whiskery old rabbit with a wand clamped between her teeth. Babbitty hopped out of the grounds and far away, and ever after a golden statue of the washerwoman stood upon the tree stump, and no witch or wizard was ever persecuted in the kingdom again._

When Sherlock finished, he glanced down at his Cariad. She had fallen asleep during the story, most likely at the end. Quickly checking the inside cover, he saw the scrawl of Melissa Potter-Southway. He smiled to himself and put a little post it note as a reminder in his Mind Palace, in the room dedicated to Cariad, to show her where her mother had written Melissa Potter in the inside cover of her beloved book. Setting the book down on the nightstand, he picked up Cariad and took her to the couch, pulling the covers up and tucking her in, kissing her head as an afterthought.

John looked up from his newspaper and smiled. “Read her a story, did you?” Sherlock nodded and stretched.

“Yes. You just wanted her to spend more time with her father.”

“True.” John said, not even pretending otherwise. “She needs to stop calling me ‘daddy’. It’s getting a little concerning.”

“Well, you are her adoptive father.”

John glared at Sherlock. “And you are her biological father, Sherlock, whether you like it or not.”

“Goodnight John,” he said, refusing to acknowledge John’s reproving tone. Sherlock padded off to his bedroom, tired for the first time in months (not that he’d admit it).

John smiled to himself as he went back to his newspaper, knowing full well that his best friend had a soft spot for Cariad, regardless. “Goodnight Sherlock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credits: Rowling, J. (2008). Babbitty Rabbitty and Her Cackling Stump. In The Tales of Beedle the Bard. New York: Children's High Level Group in association with Arthur A. Levine Books.
> 
> Didn't want to forget this. Might get yelled at. As always, comments are appreciated. Please tell me what you thought of this chapter.


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